


Delirium

by DJubilant



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, But also Sylvain is there, F/M, Felix is forced to face some problems, Illness, It's always bully Felix hours in this house, Let me have a Glenn that was a loving older brother, Mentioned Glenn Fraldarius, Slight Felix/Ingrid, This is basically a 'Bully Felix Hugo Fraldarius' fic, This is loosely set before Ch. 18s ending, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22216720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DJubilant/pseuds/DJubilant
Summary: An illness befalls Ingrid during war times, and it takes teamwork to help keep her fever down. When Felix goes to visit, however, he is confronted with a ghost that he had long since wished to be done with.
Kudos: 14





	Delirium

_**Part Two: Azure Moon** _

_ Harpstring Moon _

_ An Uneasiness Falls _

The walls of Garreg Mach stood in the misty morning haze like it had for centuries. Soft pinks and oranges tinted the sky, light filtering through the few windows that had been replaced in the months since the monastery's final class had reunited. It had been a long, harrowing night, and Byleth fought to keep her eyes open amidst the early morning hours gentle rays. Letting a huff of breath leave her; her attention trained on the clammy hand that clung to her own. 

She glanced up, taking in Ingrid's pale features as the Galatea heir took a sudden, harsh breath. She scrunched her nose, blinking harshly to try and alleviate some of the exhaustion that had begun to bore down on her after her tenth hour of watching the sickly girl toss and turn fitfully through the night. For the past few days, she had been taking shifts with Mercedes, Marianne, and Annette to keep a relatively steady influx of healing magic on the girl, but it was barely enough to keep the fever to a non-lethal temperature. 

In the beginning, it was little more than a cold, and Ingrid continued on her daily training regimen with nothing but a small sniffle here and there. By the third day, however, it was a struggle for her to even get out of her room, and by the fourth, she had drenched her bed sheets in sweat. Her continued absence had worried a few of her classmates, and so, following their Professor like ducklings in a row, the Blue Lion house had gone to assess Ingrid's health with Manuela in tow. The room was stuffy; the shades of the windows drawn tightly shut, Ingrid's shaky smile the only glimmer of light in the dim room. Manuela had immediately shooed the boys out, scattering her utensils over a bedside table and all but pushing a worried Sylvain out of the door. Byleth cast a soft smile at him over the older woman's shoulder, trying to convey to him that his childhood friend was in good hands.

Manuela had fussed over Ingrid for a while, before settling down and running tests to see if she could better pinpoint what the ailment was and where she had procured it. Byleth called for Lysithea and Dorothea's aide, keeping a steady flow of clean water to the room to clean the ever present sweat from Ingrid's brow and chest, while also keeping her hydrated with the excess. Dorothea would croon and sing softly to Ingrid as they waited for the next supply of water, petting her head softly as she watched Manuela work. When it was Lysithea's turn to wait, she'd offer some magic to alleviate some of the girl's suffering.

Unfortunately, it was all they could do to keep her even mildly comfortable. The sheets still had to be changed regularly, but at least she was being kept hydrated enough to perspire, and Byleth was grateful for all the assistance that the class had to offer in their own ways. Even Seteth came when she was too tired to keep her eyes open, and helped Ingrid put her semi conscious thoughts to paper to better keep her worried father up to date. More than once, Byleth found Ingrid sleeping to Seteth's fables, though it was little more than a respite for Byleth than anything. It pained the two to see, but they shared a silent vow to continue; to try harder.

It was the dawn of a new week, and in the training grounds, Byleth and Felix began their routine. Felix swore it was to make up for the lost time that Byleth had wasted during the five years she'd gone missing, but Byleth knew it was also Felix's way of getting information. She noticed that Felix would be more pliable to talk if he was given a worthy match, and with Byleth's mercenary training coupled with her brute strength, it was enough to get the conversation going.

"Ingrid is doing well."

_Crack._

"How well?"

_Snap-crack._

"She's still feverish, but she's talking more coherently. She's asked about you; I'm sure she'd love to-," Byleth parried a particularly fierce blow, and the two paused, their eyes locked on each other. Felix's face was a mixture of rage and, confusingly enough, astonishment. Byleth almost wondered if she'd spoken too far out of line.

"I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean for-"

Felix stood straight and wiped a bead of sweat from his cheek, cutting his old professor off with a sharp "It's fine."

The air between them felt charged, between their sparring match and the news. Neither of the two said more as they caught their breath, and Byleth tried to meet Felix's eyes. She watched the young Fraldarius heir's face contort, and she could tell from how he gripped the training sword that he was pondering his next move. Byleth's fingers thrummed absent-mindedly against the hilt of her sword, and waited. She'd grown accustomed to waiting, as she'd spent almost a good month for Dimitri to even acknowledge her presence, as well as finding a good time to strike at the Empire when they least expected it. Her patience ultimately won out, as Felix cursed and shoved his way past him, returning the training sword to one of the trainers that stood at the area's perimeter.

Byleth almost asked him where he was going, but held back, deciding instead to turn her attention to a nearby training dummy as if she'd planned on an individual training day all along. The last thing Felix heard before walking out of the grounds was the cracking and splintering of wood under Byleth's agile barrage of attacks.

The way to the dormitories was a short one, and Felix almost felt foolish for letting the words of the long lost professor goad him into such an antagonized state. But, it made him realize that he hadn't seen Ingrid since she fell ill. She always had someone with her, and Felix felt that she needed more rest than visitors… Yet, the feeling in his chest that blossomed at the mere mention that she'd asked of him…

His footsteps grew more harsh as he marched up the stairs. He wanted to turn back around, go to the dining hall, and pretend that he hadn't just stormed out of his training routine simply because Ingrid wished a visit; but, before he knew it, his footfalls had softened again and had brought him to the closed door that designated hers. Sure, with them not being students, it wasn't necessary for them to stay in their old rooms any more, but most people simply felt more comfortable in the rooms that they'd been assigned in their academy days.

Felix could hear voices inside, and almost walked away when the door creaked open. A shock of red hair met his gaze, and he looked down to meet Annette's curious gaze. Instantly, her face lit up like he'd just shown up with a platter of cookies and cakes for afternoon tea.

"You came! Good timing, I was just waiting for the Professor, but you can watch Ingrid for a bit."

She tugged him into the room, and Felix gave little resistance as he scoped the room. It was dimly lit, with basins of differing levels of water and piles of rags spread about. A few extra sheet sets were set neatly on the writing desk, next to some medicine vials and a pitcher with a matching cup. A chair was next to the bed, and Ingrid herself was laying on her side, back towards the two, curled up in a shivering ball. It was then that Felix noted the beads of sweat on Annette's forehead, sticking stray bits of her hair to her flushed skin.

"What's happening?"

Felix's words seemed to bring her back to the present. Annette wiped the sweat from her face with the sleeve of her robes.

"She was doing fine, better than she has been, but suddenly she started crying, and the next thing I knew, her fever was worse! I wanted to go find someone to help me, but the Professor had just gone to rest before the mission to Fhirdiad and-"

"And I showed up at the perfect time," Felix interjected, a slight furrow deepening his brows. Annette's eyes flicked to Ingrid's shivering form, and Felix noticed in the silence that she wasn’t just shaking from the cold air meeting her sweat slicked skin… Ingrid was still crying, softly, probably from a delirium induced nightmare. Felix felt his chest tighten at the sound, and it took everything in him to fight the urge to turn back out into the hallway just to get away from the whimpering cries that were filling his senses. His eyes fell back on Annette, and the feeling of helplessness that he’d so long suppressed rushed him like a bull. Her features were dulled in the muted lighting, but Felix could better see how the years of war had worn on the usually cheerful red-head. The last thing she needed was for a good friend to pass from an illness that had sprung up on arguably one of the least susceptible allies the Kingdom had. A small keen from Ingrid snapped them both to reality, and Annette’s whole frame shook like she was barely managing to keep herself together in front of the swordsman.

Felix let out a sigh that, to anyone else, would come off as huffy, but to Annette, it was all the confirmation that she needed that he was with her to help. That glimmer of light that he so fondly remembered from their academy days reignited like a flame in her eyes, and Felix couldn’t help the small smile that tilted the edges of his lips.

“Go then; I’ll keep watch, I’m sure the Professor wouldn’t mind a small detour to the war room,” he stated plainly as he moved past her to sit on the chair beside Ingrid’s bed. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Annette looked like she wanted to say more, probably even hug him, but she simply mouthed a ‘thank you’ and slipped out the slightly ajar door before quietly closing it behind her. Felix could hear her heels racing down the cobbled hallway, and he made a mental note to softly chastise her for running indoors.

He hadn't really noticed the passage of time, until the bells of the cathedral chimed through the air, the dull sound pulling him from a light doze in the humid warmth of the room. Felix gave a huff, rubbing his eyes before pulling down the ponytail that had gotten disheveled from the awkward angle he'd leaned his head. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging out any knots, and making a mental note to probably get it cut. Ingrid stirred, turning over and lifting herself up on her elbows, blearily glancing over at the body in the chair. Felix straightened up, and waited, not entirely sure what to talk about now that he was there.

The hair that Ingrid usually kept up in a braid hung lazily, framing her face flushed with fever with her golden tresses. Sweat pooled at the corners of her eyes, almost giving her the effect of tears while her bed clothes clung to her sweating, shivering form. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth hung open like a fish. Felix almost said something, almost moved, when she finally spoke.

"You're here," she whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling. She reached out, her fingers gently combing through the still loose strands of hair that hung in front of Felix's face. Her fingertips grazed over his cheek, and Felix felt like he'd been struck with lightning, a searing pain swelling in his gut. Instinctively, he jerked away, his eyes narrowed and his jaw set as he bit back his usual viper quick wit. Ingrid's brow furrowed, darkening her features, before a look of overwhelming sadness took its place.

"Well, you are his brother… I guess being against physical contact runs in the family…"

Felix's face screwed with confusion. His brother… Glenn was all about physical contact, he thought bitterly. He could recall with almost frustrating accuracy just how much of a love bug his older sibling had been. Even after the engagement had been announced, Glenn's tendency to scoop his little brother up into the air and fling him about as Felix kicked and screamed. Felix remembered too, the amount of times that he was only partially serious about being put down.

The silence between them felt like time was standing still, until Ingrid sat back, placing her hands in her lap and focusing on her visitor with glazed eyes.

"I'll admit, it's kind of unsettling… seeing you here. Not that it's a bad thing, it's just… I've missed you," Ingrid's lips curved into a shy smile, and Felix leaned forward to hear the last part of her sentence. She caught his gaze, and her blush deepened, before she turned away from him.

"I mean, I'd hope it would be the same for you, Glenn."

Her words hit him like an arrow lodging in his throat, and Felix felt his blood run cold. His mind filled with static, and his body felt like it was made of wet sand. Felix tried to make a sound of protest against the sudden restriction of his body, but he could only watch from inside his own mind as Ingrid continued her idle conversation with who she thought was his brother. He wanted to scream and throw the chair that he felt shackled to; to take the lance that stood ominously in the corner of the room, and cut off the hair that still hung limply from his head. His clothes clung to him as a cold sweat built up over every inch of him, but he couldn't bring himself to move for fear that it could break the illusion and cast the poor girl into a depressive fit of losing her beloved fiancee… for a second time.

Felix fought for breath around the lump in his throat, realizing that the intrusion was his tongue, and tried in vain to speak. All he could muster was a breathless sigh, but even that seemed to be enough for Ingrid. She smiled warmly, and a lilting giggle resonated from her. Felix hadn't heard that sound in years, and the ache in his chest throbbed like an old wound. He didn't want to break it to her that he was Felix Hugo Fraldarius, no one else, but he had spent his whole life under his brother's shadow. Yet now, in such confines and away from the overbearingness of his title and father, Felix found he wished that he was Glenn, if only for a moment. If only for Ingrid. His lower lip trembled, and as he focused more on Ingrid’s words, he recognized more and more of what she was saying. Not to him, per say, but to the void in her heart that refused to heal. Like a wound that scabs over, but never fully vanishes and, eventually, is ripped open over and over again.

A tear threatened to break his facade, as Ingrid's words became clear through the static that rumbled through his ears.

"I'm sorry for overloading you. There's just so much I've wanted to say… so much has changed, I'd almost be worried that you wouldn't recognize me."

He wanted to tell her to not worry about it, that no matter what she looked like Glenn would remember her, to sweep her into his arms and cradle her to sleep with kisses and promises of safety, but he wasn't sure if that would just make everything worse after the fever broke.

'Unless, she doesn't remember any of this afterwards,' Felix thought to himself. He reached up, forcing down his usual instinct to lash out, and gently pressed his palm against Ingrid's cheek. She leaned into the touch, and her eyes fluttered closed. A drop of liquid slipped down her cheek, finding its way to Felix's gloves hand, dampening the soft leather. He hoped it was just sweat, but from how her lips trembled slightly, Felix could tell it was tears that she had tried to hide all through her confession. Leaning forwards, he gently pressed his lips to hers, his touch lingering on her cheek before pulling away. 

A silent tremor rippled through Ingrid as she fought tears, and Felix cursed himself, trying to decide what to do next… what his brother would do…

The thought enraged him; that even now, he still played second to a man long dead. Yet, he found his hands guiding Ingrid to lay back, bringing the blankets up and over her shoulders. Her hand slipped out from the covers, and without thinking, Felix took it. Ingrid's eyes remained closed, but in the silence, he could make out one last 'thank you'. Minutes passed, and Ingrid's shoulders eventually fell into a rhythm that insinuated she'd fallen asleep. Felix sat, in dull silence, staring blankly at the fragile hand that clung to his own, and wondered if his brother had felt the same dread that currently engulfed him on that fateful day.

In the silence, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and slowly he removed his hand from Ingrid's, taking care not to wake her. He moved to the door, and opened it to reveal Sylvain, about to knock. Rage pooled in Felix's gut, and he pushed Sylvain back with a firm hand while closing the door behind him.

"You inconsiderate jackass," Felix spat, "Where have you been? Am I supposed to just do your job for you?"

Sylvain's eyes shot open, "What? Dude, I just got back from a mission and was coming to-"

"I don't care what you were doing! She's asleep now, so take care of her! You like her anyway, don't you?"

Felix's words hurt him as much as they startled Sylvain, who's face flushed a deep enough crimson to compete with his hair. A growl spilled from behind gritted teeth, and Felix pushed past the other man.

“Felix, I-”

“It doesn’t matter! Just-,” Felix cut him off abruptly, his patience wearing thin with every second the other man wasted with idle chatter.

"No, it does matter! We just got back from the Kingdom's capital, and I was looking for you to relay that Lord Rodrigue… Felix, your father…"

"Spit it out, you theatrical fool!"

"He's dead," Sylvain said plainly, a slight bite in his words that made Felix flinch. For the second time that day, Felix felt like he'd been shot in the chest. He stood still at the stairwell, eyes fixated on nothing in front of him but shadows that lingered in the corners, where the light could never fully reach. He refused to turn around, as if doing so to face Sylvain would also be to face the truth that he'd just forced out of him, like a confessor in church. His hands hung limply at his side, and he suddenly missed the warmth of them being held. It was as if all the warmth around him was taken in an instant, leaving him alone and cold in his miserable existence.

Like he had done all his life, he moved forwards in silence. Moving down the stairwell, he hoped that the nauseating feeling in his stomach would fade the further away he got from Ingrid’s room. Sylvain did not cry out for him, nor move to go after him. He simply watched his friend's back descend into the gloomy darkness that engulfed the stairs, noting how small that grief made him look, like it had so many years ago when his brother had been taken from them. Sylvain's hand moved to Ingrid's door, taking the handle, and praying to the Goddess that nothing more would be taken from them that day.

Outside, the winds of the mountain range howled through the walls of Garreg Mach, as if the monastery itself was joining the last Fraldarius in mourning.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for the kind words, bookmarks, and kudos on 'Poisoned Trepidation'! It warms my heart to see people enjoying my work, it really makes all this worthwhile! I hope you're ready for more angst, because between this and my next FE3H fic, it's going to be a maelstrom of feelings!


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